Overcoming Obstacles
by Andi Ra
Summary: It's the Seventh Annual Weasley Wizarding Games! Competitors must race through a harrowing obstacle course to win the hallowed cup...of course, commentary from Fred and George is always helpful and entertaining.


**Overcoming Obstacles**

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen", boomed the announcer's voice over the noisy congregation of eager fans. The loud buzz from the crowd quieted significantly to listen to what the announcer had to say.

"This is the 7th annual Weasley Wizarding Games!" Thunderous cheers erupted from the audience.

"The games this year promise to be good." The announcer declared in a smug voice. "Isn't that right, George?"

"Certainly, Fred." George replied. "Both teams have been training hard this season, and that competitive spirit is just heating up..."

"We're not giving a weather report though, but you're right, tension is mounting as the teams ready for their entrance to the stadium." said Fred "Oh, look, here come the referees for a warm-up lap of the pitch." The refs appeared, zooming out from behind the stands, much to the excitement of the mass of people.

"Well, we certainly got some lookers this time, didn't we?" George said, approvingly, looking the refs over.

"You're just saying that because one of them is your wife." Fred replied, sarcastically.

"Then you better do the same, or your wife won't be too happy." retaliated George.

"Quite right." said Fred "Angie, darling, Freddie loves you!"

Angelina rolled her eyes and gave a quick glance to Alicia, who did the same. Sometimes their husbands were so ridiculous...

"Anyway, back to the game!" said Fred "The teams are coming out! Let's hear it folks!"

George sent a charm through the crowd to spark everyone's behind and the result was something like a 'wave', much to the twins' amusement and the crowd's dismay.

"That's right, folks, show your enthusiasm!" shouted George, while Fred cracked up gleefully.

"Right," said Fred "Here's the first team – the Weasley Men! I present to you...The Weasley Wasps!"

The crowd cheered as five men soared out onto the pitch with their bright red uniforms, and after a few quick laps, they assembled at the starting line.

"That's Arthur Weasley starting off," George read off their roster "With Harry Potter, Charlie Weasley, little Ronnie Weasley and Bill Weasley as the anchor."

"I think Ludo Bagman's in the stands, and he might have something to say about their team name..."  
  
"I wouldn't walk alone tonight, boys..." George suggested

"And here come the ladies!" shouted Fred over another deafening roar from the audience at the sight of the women in their emerald green outfits. "The Weasley Warriors!"

"That's Ginny Weasley, Hermione Weasley, Molly Weasley, Nymphadora Tonks...and, hold up, they seem to be missing a player." George said

"Maybe they have a secret weapon, or something of the sort. Those women are always ready for a little trickery," Fred said "Just kidding Angie!"

"We'll soon see, there's the go ahead from the angry looking ref, the game's about to start!" said George "The teams are lining up. The refs are doing a few last minute checks on the course."

"Maybe we should explain the course layout to the folks at home, George..." Fred suggested.

"But Fred, we can see home from here..." George said "It's right over the hill...we're only in the backfield - besides, it's not like we're broadcasting this or anything..."  
  
"A boy can dream, can't he?" Fred pouted.

"Oh, alright, explain the layout." George sighed, giving in.

"Excellent!" said Fred "Well, folks, no one ever said this was easy. First players have to fly through a ring of fire, which, for the unstable flyer, can be quite threatening. Next they'll have to do a series of 10 tight rolls on their broom and soar high into the sky to retrieve a Quaffle that's waiting for them. They'll then proceed to put the Quaffle through the goal post and fly back to the start line to tag their next teammate and let the race continue..."

"Wonderfully done, Fred."

"Thank you, George." said Fred, making a little bow.

"But the refs are prepared now so let the games begin!" and the stands erupted as Alicia blew the starting whistle.

Molly and Arthur took off at an alarming rate, zooming headlong into the fire rings and speeding up as they continued.

"Look at them go!" shouted George "Those old folks really can work those brooms!"

"Well, Molly was the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team when she was at Hogwarts" said Fred "And they won the Cup every year under her lead..."

"And Arthur was the waterboy at the same time, wasn't he?"

"Yes, I believe so..."

"Come on Dad, give her some competition, I've got good money riding on this!" George shouted as they flew through the fire rings and went into their rolls.  
  
"Nah, he's saving it for the home stretch." Fred replied as Molly and Arthur both grabbed their Quaffles and put then through the goals.

They both raced back to their awaiting team members and tagged the next racers, almost at the exact same time.

"There go the two next competitors!" shouted George "Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley...this ought to be good folks! Harry was the star Seeker of the school team, but when Ginny took over the reins in her fifth year, the team was unstoppable!"

"That's right, George" agreed Fred "Harry's known for his speed, but if anyone can give him a run for his money, it's our little sis!"

"There goes Ginny with her flaming red hair, flying through the fire ring..."

"Oh my goodness," Fred said, "It looks as if Ginny's hair has actually caught on fire! Harry's distracted now, trying to help her put it out...and there goes Ginny, racing off ahead of him without so much as a thank-you! Well, how do you like that?"

"Well, I'm sure Harry isn't be too happy right now, but he's racing hard to catch up!"

They were both racing with looks of grim determination on their faces. Harry and Ginny were dead even as they put their Quaffles through the goal.

"I'll bet you're sorry you bought your fiancée that Firebolt 3000 now, aren't you Potter?" Fred shouted as the racers tagged the next players.

"There goes Charlie Weasley and Nymph – sorry – Tonks!" said George, as Tonks shot him a dirty glance.

"Tonks isn't particularly known for her skills on a broom, but they both look pretty good to me!" said Fred, admiring her technique.

"Now there's something you don't see everyday" said George as an interesting predicament occurred as they both went into their rolls.

Tonks' hair, mid-roll, kept changing colour, from bright red to deep indigo to light green.

"I think she's suffering from some multi-tonal excitement there..." George observed as she raced towards the Quaffle.

"You know, Charlie could've played for England in his prime, but Tonks' is managing to keep up with him quite easily. I wonder if the old man's losing his touch with the years..." Fred said, nodding his head knowingly.

"I don't about that, brother. You didn't see those two together at Christmas: they were getting quite cosy after a few cups of our special eggnog." George smirked. "Maybe he's just letting her win..."

"The sly old dog" Fred said reprovingly.

Both racers slammed the bright red balls through the goals and raced, even, back to the line.

"You know, Charlie is surprisingly graceful on the broom..." commented Fred, as they tagged the next competitors, "Even though he does look like a troll riding a twig...sorry, bro, but it's the truth." He shook his head sadly. "Ouch! Ok, which one of you did that!?" He cried when he received a sharp shock on his bum. Tonks and Charlie exchanged equally evil grins.

"Back to the game!" shouted George, after chuckling at his twin, "There goes ickle Ronnikins and wife Hermione Weasley! Now this should be fun..."

"Didn't Hermione write a bestseller book, (one of her many), when her husband decided to become a professional Quidditch player?" asked Fred, rubbing his backside.

"Yes, and I believe it was entitled 'Quibbles on Quaffles: 101 Things Better To Do With Your Life Than Play Quidditch (And Don't Get Me Started...)'" replied George. "An instant buy among all those house wives, eh?"

"I got one in my Christmas stocking." said Fred

"I got two..." said George, "But going back to the, ah, game!" he said as Angelina shot him a look.

"Ah, yes, well it looks as if Ron is pulling ahead quite a bit..."

"This may be the lead the boys need to win it!" George said excitedly.

Ron had already reached the Quaffle as Hermione pulled out of her rolls. Then, the unexpected happened...

"I don't believe it!" shouted George "The little nit-wit missed the goal!"

Angelina and Alicia were zooming over to him, blowing their whistles and shouting at him to retrieve the ball and put it though the goal before he finished his leg of the race. Cursing, he complied.

"Watch your language, Ronnie!" said George "Or you're wife's going to win!"

Both Hermione and Ron, now almost exactly even, desperately raced for the line.

Then a strange thing happened (again you say? Yes...again. But you wouldn't expect this to be normal, now would you?) A dull chant, slowly building in the spectator section began to ring out.

"I can't quite make out what they're saying, George, can you tell what it is?" said Fred, straining to hear.

"It sounds like 'minimum nerve' or something," said George. "Wait! Who's that coming onto the pitch? Is she the mystery player we've been waiting for?"

The chant rose to a roar as the late arrival took her place in the line.

"MIN-ER-VA! MIN-ER-VA!" the crowd shouted, hysterical, at the racer.

"I don't believe it!" screamed Fred "It's Professor McGonagall!"

"I didn't know she flew!" George shouted, incredously.

Ron, who had still managed to get a slight lead on Hermione, slapped Bill Weasley hard to tag him. Bill, meanwhile, was staring with open-mouthed shock at his opponent.

Hermione tagged Minerva, out of breath. The transfiguration teacher winked at Bill, then took off like a bullet out of a gun.

"Go, you idiot!" screeched Ron "Don't just sit there and let her win! Move!"

Bill snapped back to reality and took off after her.

"Now this is what I call racing!" said Fred "Look at them go!"

"Bill was on the Cup wining team in his early years at Hogwarts as a Chaser, a fact little known, so Bill's good", said George "I have no idea what Minerva's like, but she's looking pretty amazing."

Minerva and Bill were zipping through the course. They were spinning blurs and scored with astounding ease. It was a dead-heat back to the line.

"They're neck and neck!" shouted Fred, hysteria growing in the crowd.

"And the winner is..." George yelled as they both zoomed across the finish line.

Alicia raced over and held Minerva's hand high into the air.

"Weasley Warriors!" Fred cried over the roar of the crowd.

"I don't believe it!!" said George

A swarm of people came pouring out of the stands as both teams, one disenchanted and one ecstatically happy, sank to the ground. The girls were mobbed by their fans the instant they were within reach.

Lee Jordan, star journalist for the Daily Prophet, managed to elbow his way through the mob to the boys' team.

"How does it feel to have lost yet again, for the 7th year running to the women's team?" he asked, pulling a notepad and quill out of his pocket.

"Well, you know, I was sure we had them beat this time." Ron kicked at the ground.

"Geez, this stinks..."said Harry, dejected. "I have to wash dishes for the next month."

But the boys soon forgot their woes when the crowd, mainly out of pity, welcomed then into the throng.

Everyone they knew was there: all their friends from the Order, Hogwarts teachers and students. Oliver Wood and his wife Katie Bell-Wood were both decked out in their green war paint. Albus Dumbledore and Flitwick were collecting on a bet from Severous Snape. Percy and Penelope had even come along, and surprisingly, seemed to have enjoyed themselves.

Fred and George came down from their box and presented the women with a trophy engraved with the letters 'WWG' on the front. Minerva, accepting it, made a little speech.

"I am so proud to be standing here holding this" she began. "It reminds me of my 7 years of playing for Gryffin-"

"How could you play for 7 years?" interrupted Ron.

"Yeah," said Harry "I was the youngest player in over a century to play, and-"

"How old _are_ you, Professor?" Ron asked.

"A lady never reveals her age, Weasley." She replied with a twinkle in her eye. "But, anyway, GO WARRIORS!" She shouted, hoisting the trophy above her head to the screams of the fans around her.

The rest of the day passed by in a flurry with a celebration party afterwards at the Burrow... 

...the boys cleaned up, of course.

THE END


End file.
